


Qixi

by Kalloway



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:58:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16659029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/pseuds/Kalloway
Summary: In which kindness is repaid in multiples.





	Qixi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taichara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/gifts).



> Dog Daies, July 7, 2009: The Weaver and the Cowherd.
> 
> Originally posted Jan. 2nd, 2010.

"Where are you going?" Mu had asked, as he watched Milo stride right through his temple and down towards the entrance to Sanctuary. As if it wasn't obvious by his lack of armor and intelligent choice of footwear - he was going for a walk. A long one. Away from everyone and everything. He needed to be somewhere that wasn't Sanctuary, that wasn't anywhere. He wouldn't actually go far - he was forbidden from doing that, as if Mu wouldn't be able to single-handedly take care of any potential intruder.

"Down," Milo had replied. It was already late afternoon, anyway, and Milo didn't think anyone launched attacks during the late afternoon.

And Mu had said nothing else. Milo wasn't sure if Mu simply had nothing to say or if deep down, Mu understood. Either way, it wasn't a thought Milo had kept in his mind.

He had quickly - far too quickly, quite honestly - found himself down by the outskirts of the local village. It had not been his intended destination, after all; he hadn't had one. Still, he hadn't necessarily wanted to be around anyone, even in passing.

There had been a sudden ruckus by a clump of trees and Milo had investigated, finding a group of young boys with nets and a cage with three magpies inside.

Five minutes later, five coins lighter and carrying a cage of magpies, Milo had started back up the hill towards Sanctuary. Thankfully when he passed, Mu had said nothing. But the look he had given, after the initial one of amused curiosity, spoke volumes.

Milo did not stop at his own temple. Instead he kept going, stopping only when he reached the eleventh temple.

"This should be far enough," he said as he set the cage down, a little thankful that no one was around to hear him speaking to the birds. "Stay up here and you'll be safe."

He undid the latch of the cage and opened it, stepping away and waiting. After a long moment, during which only one of the birds bothered considering escaping, Milo sat down and sighed.

Finally, after what felt like a ridiculously long wait, the magpies ventured out of the cage. Milo was fairly sure they were staring at him for a long, odd moment afterward, but he put it out of his head as he stood and stretched and started on the trek back down.

The rest of his evening was normal - he ate, bathed and finally went to bed...

And then, he dreamed.

First, there were stars and lights, and then the magpies, who were whispering, and a river, and....

Milo awoke to a familiar presence in his room and he spoke without thinking - "Why are you over there?"

And the a bit of rational thought returned to him - "Camus?"

There -- in the shadows, yes, red hair and dark clothing and pale, perfect skin.

"You have that many others sneaking in to your room that you need to ask?" Camus replied, walking over towards the bed slowly before pausing and asking in an almost-amused tone... "Are you naked already?"

"It was warm," Milo started, "I..."

"Just took a bath," Camus finished, smiling with red, red lips before reaching with fingers tipped with long, perfect red nails to pull off his shirt.

Milo chuckled and sat up properly, not bothering to hide his nudity. It had been awhile, after all, since Camus had descended to visit because...

Because Camus had died.

Milo frowned for a moment as he watched Camus undress. Half of him wanted to rush to Camus and embrace him and kiss him and make sure what he was seeing was real. And the other half...

"What is it?"

The tone and inflection were unmistakably belonged to Camus - he had his shirt of and was leaning to pull off his boots, but...

"You died," Milo said. The room was warm, though, and he could feel and smell and taste and... it was too real for a dream.

"Then we just have tonight," Camus commented, either unbothered by or perfectly aware of his condition. "Don't we?"

Milo was not going to question that - he was out of bed and had his hands on Camus before Camus had even really finished speaking.

If he was somehow dreaming, he decided, it was going to be the best damned dream he'd ever had.

And then Camus kissed him, deep, hard, like any returning lover would. Milo no longer cared if he was dreaming or not - every inch of Camus felt right - nails on his hips, not-quite-as-warm-skin against his and a moment later, familiar red eyes staring into his own.

"Bed's getting cold," Milo said with a slight leer, to which Camus only feigned a frown before pulling away to remove his pants. Milo smirked and settled back onto the bed - he had no doubts about his partner once he saw the red on Camus' toenails, contrasting brightly with pale skin and the dark stone floor.

"I do bite, but..." Milo began to add, but Camus was on him before he could finish speaking.

Later, Milo would think to liken it to their first night together, during which they'd awkwardly tried a little of everything with mostly-amazing results. Back then it was a pent-up, young lust combined with the utter joy that their emerging emotions were shared.

But instead of awkwardness, movements were practiced and joyous, telling stories without words, making promises, swearing oaths, assuring that the world shook.

Camus was the one who noticed the coming dawn while Milo was still recovering from having Camus' mouth on his cock and one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life. He opened his mouth to speak, but...

Milo yawned and then winced. And instead of speaking, Camus simply looked at him with a pleading frown.

"Just..." he began, but instead offered a quick kiss.

"What?" Milo questioned.

"Know," Camus said as he shifted to lay across Milo's chest and pull the blankets over both of their bodies.

"Know?" Milo asked, but as he wrapped his arms around Camus, it didn't really matter -- he was so tired, and, and... Camus was so perfect against him.

The second he closed his eyes, he knew he'd made a mistake. He forced his eyes open - dawn had arrived. And he was alone.

Exhausted.

And his bed was a mess.

"Camus?" he tried, but... when there was no answer, he was not surprised.

Ignoring the sun, he pulled the blankets back over his head and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And when he woke late in the afternoon, he cleaned up as best he could and headed down to see Mu, who would probably be ready to talk.


End file.
